


Two Lost, Two Found

by PrincessRaptor



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Child Abandonment, Explicit Language, Ford after the Portal, Not C-137 Morty, One Shot, Past Abuse, Perspective Shifting, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 21:45:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16206278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessRaptor/pseuds/PrincessRaptor
Summary: One was lost by accident through a dangerous portal. One was lost on purpose after he lost his usefulness. The multi-verse is a huge place, so there's little chance someone lost can ever be found, right?





	Two Lost, Two Found

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after Ford has been in the portal a while, and had his surgery. This Morty is not C-137, but another one from another dimension that I just made up so hopefully it's not like an established one. 
> 
> The perspective shifts between Stanford's and Morty's perspective, denoted by a - and line breaks. 
> 
> Hope it all makes sense and you enjoy!

Morty shivered, wrapping his arms around himself as he curled up inside the cave, small fire in front of him. It was hard to focus, his vision kept blinking to black, and he didn’t know how much more time he had to be conscious. Since the ‘experiment’ he’d been weak and tired. Morty knew why, he hadn’t recovered and possibly Rick had been so drunk he’d done something wrong, but knowing didn’t help—knowing _never_ helped. He knew tons of things: he was from dimension T-65, his dimension was gone, his grandfather had abandoned him saying he would just get a better Morty back at the citadel, he was going to catch hypothermia tonight if nothing changed, that the human body could survive three weeks without food and he was a week in, that the creatures here were so alien that he couldn’t eat them and instead they made him violently ill. None of it helped him. Knowledge had never helped him.  Knowledge was for _Rick_ , a Morty was just a tool who was better off agreeing and shutting up.

He wanted to cry, but he didn’t think he had the energy. He wanted to just vanish, and that would happen soon. Like Rick always said, there was no God, no afterlife, they just became nothing. A part of the void. But that was okay, if he became nothing. Morty had never been more than Nothing.

A sound outside the cave made him wonder if it was a predator out there, seeking an easy meal. He wouldn’t put up much of a fight like this, and wondered if just submitting to being mauled would hurt less. Did it even matter anymore? Closing his eyes he waited for claws and fangs and death.

-

Stanford pulled his cloak around himself, the chill in the air telling of how cold it might get that night. He needed to find shelter before nightfall and do something to seal in the heat as best he could. It wasn’t as bad as when he had been in the dimension three back where it had been eternally icy and snowy, but he didn’t fancy his ass freezing off all night. It would make finding a way out of here harder if he couldn’t get proper rest.

Spotting a cave partway up a mountain, he let out a thoughtful sound and began walking towards it. It would do well enough for now, there were some trees and the energy-infused axe he had would make easy work of them. He could get a fire going and begin blocking off the entrance. There were enough provisions he didn’t need to worry about food or water for a few days, which would give him enough time to analyze the flora and fauna here to see what could be edible or useful.

It was hard to tell how long he would be here. Sometimes he was in a dimension hours, sometimes weeks or months. Once it had been near three months before one of the ripples would appear to allow him to pass through. Eventually he would find home. And when he finally did . . . Stanley . . .

Pushing such thoughts aside, he focused on finding a proper path up the mountain, pleasantly surprised when there actually was a path. It was rather rare he was finding, to discover things that made life easy.

When he actually made it near the cave he turned around to look at the land from his perch. He could see forests, strange creatures grazing, and the sun low in the red-hued sky. It wasn’t a bad dimension he found himself in this time, all things considered. Of course, it would be better once he had somewhere to rest and get warm. Perhaps the cave would even have hints of the creatures here and what he could expect, or maybe—a child?

Ford’s eyes widened as he saw the young boy. He looked like a teen though in the youngest sense. He couldn’t be older than thirteen or fourteen with how he looked (if he was human at all, but still), and he seemed to be in some distress. Pale, with dried blood on his forehead and matted hair that was most likely caused by more blood. He was trembling lightly and just . . . didn’t seem to be doing well. Stanford quickly strode across the cave and kneeled down, not caring if this was some strange space trap or if the boy spoke English. If he didn’t Stanford had another two dozen languages he could go through. His hand reached out and he saw the boy jolt, surprised. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. Do you understand me?” Frowning he muttered to himself: “Maybe I should have started with Quberian, the last few dimensions seemed to favor that one . . . ”

The boy was now looking at him, eyes reflecting confusion and fear. “Yea, I, oh jeeze, I can understand you but who are you? What are you doing here? Is this just, just some delusion?” His voice was weak and soft, and he seemed to be having trouble focusing. No wonder with the state he seemed in.

“I assure you, I am no hallucination.” Stanford removed his cloak, carefully helping the teen sit forward and draping it around him, hoping it might help his trembling. “My name is Stanford. I’ll take care of you.” The teen seemed to be lapsing out of consciousness, but his hands had moved to hold onto the cloak as tight as they could—which honestly wasn’t that tight but Stanford was glad he had enough strength to do anything. “Go ahead and rest my boy. I’ll make sure nothing happens while you do.”

There was no way to tell if he passed out because he trusted in Stanford’s words, or if he was in just such awful condition he was unable to remain conscious for any longer. In the end it didn’t matter. Stanford pulled his scarf off and used it as a makeshift pillow, carefully easing the boy into a laying position. He moved the cloak as well to better cover him. Glancing to the entrance of the cave he frowned. He didn’t want to spend the time to build a proper wall, but he had to do something. So he pulled the axe from his belt and headed outside. Thankfully besides the trees there was plenty of bush and several stumps that had enough dead wood for him soon to have a roaring fire going. The bushes he cut down were stacked by the entrance, tied together with some leather strips, to at least block out some of the wind. With the cave a bit more livable, for the moment at least, Ford returned to the boy. From his jacket he pulled out of his many pockets the supplies he had. There was some food and pure water (plenty of water, the rebels in Dimension H2Orpheus had given him a water skin made from a magical Aqua-Beast which could carry near infinite amounts of water while not weighing more than a feather), and most importantly a first aid kit.

Most of it was things he had learned from other rebels or through trial and error. There was some balm for helping external injuries, some bark that tasted bitter but could cure a fever, a strange semi-sentient rock that when sucked on could cure migraines. What he reached for first however was a few clean rags he needed to help clean the wound. Taking his time he began rinsing the child’s hair of the matted blood, lightly rubbing at the skin to clean dried blood off when he could. The work was slow, but he slowly began to get a clear view of the injury. There was a large cut in the scalp, seeming almost surgical in nature. It had been stitched up but nothing more had been done to keep it healthy as there was dirt and infection he could see as he cleaned the wound gently, worried he might wake the boy. However, the child showed no sign of waking, which was both a relief and worrying. When Stanford had cleaned the wound as best as he could he began gently applying the salve, hoping it might help with the infection and allow the skin to mend. He then took out strips of bandages and wrapped it around the stitches, hoping to keep them clean.

With that done, he began inspecting what else he could see of the young teen. There were some scratches, and dark circles, but it seemed there was no other major trauma he could see. Hopefully the wound on his head was all there was . . . though simply calling it a wound seemed wrong, as it was more like a recovering surgical site. Stanford found he had many questions, but there would be no answers until the boy awoke. So for now he would simply stay on watch.

-

Morty woke slowly, feeling oddly comfortable and warm. He was confused, especially when the first sensation he felt upon waking wasn’t his head hurting so bad it was like he was being stabbed. Rather, the first things he noticed was how he felt so nice and warm. Slowly he opened his eyes, and found that the darkness that had obscuring his vision was still there to some extent, but he could see better. And there was much to see. There was a stump that seemed to have a fire inside of it, a large wall of what seemed to be bushes, and a man sitting against the wall, arms crossed and head bowed, seemingly asleep. Vaguely Morty recalled that he had seen him before passing out, and could only assume he was the reason Morty was waking up without hypothermia—or waking up at all.

Sitting up, he gingerly moved a hand to feel at his head, and was surprised when he felt bandages over his stitches. Another surprise came when he looked next to the fire and saw a note stating “FOOD” and an arrow pointing to what seemed to be a large leaf with several vaguely fruit-looking things. Considering, Morty finally figured it was worth the risk and picked up one, taking a bite and then making a face. It didn’t taste _anything_ like a fruit, it more tasted . . . sort of like an uncooked potato? It wasn’t pleasant but it also wasn’t immediately making him vomit so he ate the whole thing before reaching to what looked like a grapefruit. He dug his nails into the skin and pulled it back to see that like a grapefruit it seemed to have easily pull-apart sections, but instead of citrus it looked like . . . meat? Sniffing it, it didn’t smell bad (rather it smelled kinda good, like when ground beef was cooking) and so he ate one of the wedges. It tasted like meat too, like ground turkey—a little plain, but not bad by any stretch.

The last item was the strangest. It appeared to be a normal candy bar. Opening it, he found it also smelled normal. Taking a small bite he waited for the weirdness, for it to taste awful or make him die suddenly or something . . . instead it was like he had just grabbed a chocolate bar from the store. Trying not to wonder too much, he ate it all before laying back and pulling the fabric—some kind of clothing he now realized, back around himself. He wanted to stay up and watch for the man to awaken, but before he could he was drifting off to sleep.

-

Ford spent much of the next three days doing what he could to improve the cave. He scouted the area and was able to find trees he could remove large strips of soft, almost feathery, bark. Ford used it to make beds for himself and the boy. Ah, the boy. He drifted in and out of consciousness, waking in a daze several times to eat and drink before falling asleep again. Sometimes he managed to speak a little, which was how Ford discovered his name was Morty Smith, but beyond that he didn’t know much else.

The good news was that with Ford’s treatment, rest, and food, Morty was beginning to look better and better. His head was healing well, though Ford was getting more and more questions about it. Honestly, the cuts and sutures reminded him of the surgery he had undergone at the Oracle’s hands. Was this some sort of brain surgery? Some strange modification of some sort? All he could do was speculate, he still didn’t know what sort of dimension Morty was from. He seemed human or close to it at least, but was it a place similar to Ford’s home?

When he wasn’t tending to his current residence or roommate, Ford was focused on learning all he could about this dimension. He observed various creatures, and with some testing found almost all of them were toxic. Thankfully the flora was far less so and he was able to gather some plants and roots that he could use for food. After so many dimensions, he’d gotten good at testing to see if the food was edible or not. After the first time he’d gotten some sort of strange space plague . . .

With food secure, the main priority was making sure those predators he saw didn’t decide to taste them. They were almost bear like, if not for the strange green color, eight legs and dozen tiny red eyes and two mouths. So maybe it wasn’t very bear like at all but Ford still tries to connect these creatures to what he knew on Earth somehow.

Earth. He wondered how Stan was doing, what he was doing. Had his burn healed? Surely it had by now. Had he burned the journal? Or maybe Stan had read it. It made Ford smile to think his brother might have read and even enjoyed his journal. Both of them had always liked the paranormal and strange. Perhaps if Stan had been there with him, he never would have ended up making that deal. Somehow he felt like his brother would have seen through the lies, he was always good at that. Cutting through the bullshit and getting the truth out of people. Ford had read about twins that had some psychic connection, and wished not for the first time that was true. If they had that, then this whole thing might never have happened.

What was the point of thinking such things now though? It had been so long, though he had lost track of how long, with how time was so . . . flexible in these varying dimensions. For now he had Morty to tend to and keep safe. Hopefully soon he’d be well enough to remain conscious. Ford had so many questions.

-

For the first time since the operation, Morty woke up feeling almost normal. He was able to sit up without any pain or dizziness, and didn’t feel shaky and weak. Running a hand though his hair, he still felt the bandages but the pressure against them didn’t cause pain like it had earlier in the week. Honestly, it was a relief. Looking around, he spotted Ford nearby. The man was usually close by when he woke up, sometimes asleep as he was now. When he was asleep, he always seemed to be close to the entrance, as if he’d fallen asleep on guard—which made since, as he’d been the only one here for however long Morty’s recovery had taken. Normally Rick would set up some invention to keep enemies out if they were somewhere for long, like a barrier or a turret or . . . 

Well, who cared about what Rick would do. He was gone. He wasn’t coming back for Morty. Not after he’d “ruined” him.

The food was where it normally was, but this time Morty didn’t eat. Instead he waited, wanting to try eating with the one who had been taking care of him. It seemed only polite. Morty wondered about him, how he had come here and _why_ he was bothering to help. If there was anything he’d learned about the multiverse was everyone was a jerk. Rick was the biggest one but pretty much everyone he’d come across was a jerk or worse. So someone helping him was strange, and a little suspicious.

Thankfully, he didn’t have too long to wait. The man woke up soon and when their eyes met he seemed delighted. “You’re awake! How are you feeling Morty?” Ford stood and walked over, putting a hand on his forehead. “Seems your fever is completely gone now, good. How does your head feel? When I changed the bandage last night it was looking a lot better.”

“Um, oh jeeze, I’m okay.” Morty fidgeted, toying with the hem of his stained yellow shirt. “My head doesn’t hurt much at all anymore. So, ah, thanks for that.” He felt so awkward, even when the man sat beside him. Instead of trying to talk more he shut up and watched as Ford pulled out a knife. Unlike if Rick pulled out a knife, his first thought wasn’t _I hope he doesn’t stab me_ but instead _what is he doing?_ It was clear after a second, when he saw Ford cutting up the food easily and then handing half to Morty.

“I’m glad. I was quite worried. I wasn’t sure what I was doing would help. You seem to be of similar biology, but it’s impossible to tell what differences there could be.”

Morty nodded, beginning to eat his food. “That’s true. I know there can be some pretty crazy differences in different dimensions. Oh jeeze, um, I’m from dimension T-65. What-what about you?”

Ford smiled sadly. “I don’t know what my dimension is called. I passed through a portal from my home dimension, and have been trying to find my way back since.” He didn’t elaborate and Morty wasn’t sure what to think. A portal? Was this Rick’s fault too?

“So, do you have a portal gun too?” he asked, looking Ford over to see if he could figure out where it would be.

“A . . . portal gun?” Ford’s clear confusion made Morty give up the search.

“If not, how are you, um, ya know. Moving through dimensions? I didn’t know there was a way without one of the guns.”  It was how Rick always did it at least. Morty had just assumed it was the only way.

“Ah, well . . . I call them transference ripples. As far as I can tell, the universe can tell when something isn’t right, when something is there that doesn’t belong. Such as a being from another dimension. This weakens the dimensional boundaries and creates a ripple that such beings can pass through to leave said dimension. When and where they occur is hard to predict, but it’s normally near where the other-dimensional beings are. However, I’ve had them take hours to months. And there’s no telling where you’ll end up once you pass through. There is also no going back. Once you pass through, they vanish. Like ripples after the cause is stilled.”

Morty was staring at him with wide eyes in wonder. “Woah.” Perhaps the wildest part of all that Ford had said was it made sense. Most of what Rick had said didn’t make much sense at all.

“Of course there’s a variety of dangers that come from going from dimension to dimension, but I’ve managed alright. The biggest problem is when _he_ gets involved, but so far I’ve been able to skirt around the nightmare realm.”

Nightmare realm? That didn’t sound good. Morty kinda wanted to ask but it also sounded like something that was Not Good and he might prefer not to know about. “Oh jeeze. So, you’re going to be leaving when you find one?” He’d need to figure out what to do after that happened. Maybe he’d have time to learn how to survive here.

“Ideally, yes. You’re not from this dimension either, so if you want, you can come with me. I’ll do what I can to keep you safe, but things can be dangerous . . . ”

A bitter laugh escaped him before Morty could stop it. “Oh I know how dangerous it can be. Before he left me behind, Rick dragged me all over. But now I’m useless, so he’s just going to pick up a new grandson from some other dimension.”

“What?!” Ford’s voice had dropped from light and conversational to angry. He was practically growling. “Your, your _grandfather_ left you behind!? To fend for yourself in this dimension?!” Morty shrugged a little which only seemed to make Ford angrier. “How could he?! You’re still just a child, and injured—and to say he’d just get a different grandson?!”

“Oh jeeze, it’s really not a big deal. Rick is just like that. He’s so smart, and he needed me to keep hidden cause I’m stupid, but now it won’t work so I’m useless. He, he um said I was trash, and there’s a bunch of Mortys out there. They even, um, sell ‘em some places. I think he thought I’d just die here if he left me.” As he spoke Morty’s eyes fell. There was a small ache in his heart, but more than that he was simply resigned. It was his lot in life. In the end, a Morty was unimportant.

When he looked up, he saw Ford’s back as the man marched out of the cave, and sighed. “Oh jeeze, good job M-Morty you useless fuck. Now even Ford doesn’t want to have anything to do with you.”

-

Ford had always been the more passive and reserved of his siblings. Stanley had always been the one fast to threaten or fight, especially if Ford was targeted. It had never made sense how fast his brother would rise to anger over how he was treated, in some ways Ford had assumed he deserved it because he was a six-fingered freak.

Now he understood.

He had to leave before he started ranting like an idiot and threatening a man he would likely never meet. After all, Morty was recovering and he didn’t want to scare him.

But now that he was out of there . . . he pulled the axe from his belt and began swinging it at the tree. Each swing helped burn off some of the anger, but it was still simmering under the surface.

Maybe it was because this Rick made him think too much of Filbrick, and he didn’t want to think of his father. Maybe it was because in some ways, the way that Morty talked about him, this Rick reminded Ford of, well, Ford.

He swung the axe again, jaw clenched tight.

-

Morty poked at the fire-stump with one of the sticks in the pile of firewood. He didn’t know what he’d do now that he was left alone again. It was tempting to just go out and let something eat him, but he didn’t really want to die. But what other choice was there? On his own, a Morty was nothing. Without a Rick, without anyone . . .

Footsteps made him tense, and he looked towards the entrance. Perhaps there were tribal creatures here that would stab him or—or . . . it was Ford, carrying some wood, face set in a scowl. “Oh, uh, jeeze, I didn’t think you’d be coming back. I thought maybe I messed stuff up again or something.”

The man looked at him and his face softened, setting the wood down and then shaking his head. “No. I was just . . . upset that someone in your family would treat you as such. I worried if I didn’t vent some of that energy I’d end up saying something regrettable. It’s happened before. I get too worked up and then say or don’t say something and hurt people. And I think it’s clear you’ve been through enough, you don’t need some old man screaming and ranting about.”

“Well, wouldn’t be the first time. Rick was always drunk and screaming and shit.” Morty shrugged, poking the fire again. “It’s um, it’s kinda nice not to be yelled at really.” As much as he felt lost without Rick, there was a small part of him that was relieved to be away from his sociopathic grandfather.

“I have no intention to yell at a child,” Ford stated with a frown. “It’s shameful that someone did, especially family. Family is supposed to be there for you.” The man sighed, looking a bit worn, as if remembering something bitter. Maybe he was, many people had issues with their family, didn’t they? “However, he is gone now, and so I’ll make sure that you are safe and taken care of. It wouldn’t do for you to become weak again, even if your injuries are doing better. Which, if I can ask . . . ” Morty saw Ford’s eyes flick to the bandages and shrugged.

“Oh, um, well jeeze, Rick wanted to test something. There was this, um, multi-wave-analyzer, and Rick was trying to find a way to stop it, so he surgically put in a metal plate, but it turns out that kinda messes up how my brain waves cover his, so I was useless after.” Morty kept poking the fire, feeling Ford’s eyes on him. “My gran—um, jeeze, okay, so Rick has these unique brain waves cause he’s so smart, and mine like, hide it? So that’s why he kept me around and took me places. I just, oh jeeze, sometimes I thought he cared but he’s too _smart_ to care and I’m too _dumb_ to be cared about.”

“Bullshit!” The word was almost shouted and made Morty jump, looking at Ford. “First of all, just because you aren’t as intelligent doesn’t mean you can’t be cared about. Not to mention just because you lack conventional intelligence doesn’t mean you are _dumb_. My brother wasn’t good at school, and he was called stupid, but he had many talents I didn’t have, even though I was supposedly smarter.” Morty swore there was something bitter about how Ford was speaking, but he didn’t interrupt. This was the first time he wasn’t being straight up told he was stupid, by Rick or his dad or anyone honestly. “Just because someone is intelligent doesn’t mean they can’t make . . . horrible mistakes. Trust me, I’ve made plenty, and so has Rick if he was so able to abandon his family.”

Nodding, the man then shook his head a little. “But enough about that. I’m actually quite curious about the fact you have a metal plate in your head. I don’t care to believe in _fate_ , but . . . ” he raised his hand and knocked it on his skull. There was a dull metal sound and Morty’s eyes widened. “I recently had a similar operation, though its purpose was to protect my mind from an enemy of mine. While I’m sure they aren’t exactly the same, it could help keep you safe.”

Rick had always told Morty there was no such thing as fate, or any of that bullshit, and everything was just chance and human minds trying to connect separate happenings . . . but Rick could shove it, because this did seem like fate. “What, oh jeeze, what sort of enemy do you need to be protected from?”

“Bill.”

The name meant nothing to Morty, but at the same time he felt like something was _wrong_ when he heard the name. “So, um, how does the metal plate help?”

Ford’s lips turned to a grim smile. “He’s a dream demon, who can influence someone’s mind. This will keep him from being able to do that. He won’t be able to enter my mind freely, though dreams are still his domain. It will keep him from being able to read and manipulate my thoughts at will, like he did before.”

That, that was some pretty fucked up shit. A creature that could mess with someone’s mind? But hey, if Ford had a metal plate to help him with that, maybe Morty would be safe since he had one too. Which was good; because a demon creature messing with his mind was not his idea of fun (though it seemed like something Rick would stir up for shits and giggles).

“I’m sorry, things have gotten rather grim, haven’t they? You don’t need to worry, Bill is, generally, confined to the Nightmare Realm. We’re safe here from him, and anything that is here . . . well, you just leave that to me to take care of!” Ford smiled and gave him a thumbs up.

Morty returned the gesture a little uncertain, but it was more reassuring than when Rick had said he would deal with something. However, something about it was strange, and he squinted, looking at the thumbs up to try and figure it out. Suddenly he realized, and his eyes widened. “Six fingers!” he blurted out, before flushing a little. “S-sorry, you um, you have six fingers.” Shit. Morty, don’t you think the guy knows!? “Is that, I mean does everyone, in your dimension? Cause um, only five back home . . . ” Trailing off awkwardly, he hoped he didn’t just offend the guy.

Instead the man laughed. “No, it’s uncommon where I’m from. I was teased a lot when I was a kid for it. Even my twin only had five fingers. He’d call me Sixer.” Sixer. That was kinda a cool nickname. “My home is Earth, North America. I was originally from New Jersey but I moved to Oregon for my research and—”

“So you’re from Earth too? Even if it’s not the same dimension, that’s such a relief! I’m from Washington! We lived, um, pretty close to Seattle? Like, most likely not the same dimension, but still, it’s really nice to know we’re actually from the same world. Like, Rick’s taken me places where the aliens seem human but are like totally different.” Maybe Morty shouldn’t have been so relieved, but really . . . maybe if he could stick around Ford, he could get to Earth. Sure, he couldn’t go home but he would figure out _something_ to do. At least there wouldn’t be aliens.

“That is exciting! I haven’t met any I could rightfully call human since I came here. I wanted to ask you of your origin.” He pulled a book out of his pocket and then a pin. Opening it he began making notes, and Morty stood, walking over to peek inside. When Ford noticed he didn’t get mad or try to hide the notes, nor did he just tell Morty he wouldn’t be able to understand. “I’ve been cataloging everything I’ve come across, in case it can be of use later on. Different dimensions, what they know about Bill, language tips . . . how to avoid eating a planet.”

“What?”

“The multiverse can be a confusing place depending on where you end up.”

-

The week passed, but it didn’t drag on like Ford was accustom to. Usually the time waiting for the ripple to appear was tedious, but with Morty there time seemed to pass easily. They traded stories of their usual adventures, and Morty was beginning to cut any mention of Rick from them. Ford would account his stories, some from Gravity Falls, and some from his adventures since he fell through the portal. He even recounted capturing the Jersey Devil as a kid . . . though he felt nervous whenever he mentioned Stanley, hoping Morty wouldn’t ask. And so far he hadn’t. It was a topic he wasn’t keen to bring up.

Ford hadn’t gone too much into Bill either, though he knew if Morty was going to stay with him he would need to go into it. After all, Bill was dangerous and Morty should know what he was getting into. It would be understandable if once he heard about all Bill did and wanted to do, about how he had such a hold on Ford before, that Morty might want to get far away. And while that would be fine in some dimensions, this one was rather dangerous and not the most hospitable to humans. If he could get back to that gambling dimension, or one like that then perhaps . . .

Besides talking though, he began teaching Morty boxing. That too was bittersweet, remembering his brother helping coach him, but it was a good way to work out and knowing self-defense was a necessity if you were going to be jumping between worlds. Surprisingly, Morty seemed to pick it up fast. Maybe it had to do with his pent up rage. That . . . that was why Stan had been so good at it too.

He had also fashioned Morty a weapon, just in case. It was similar to his axe, though Morty had said he wanted a “cool sword” so it was a sword. Ford had some trouble getting it as powerful as his axe, as the material they had to work with was limited. It would work if there was no other choice, but being as it was made from hardened pieces of wood with a mythical energy current through it, it wasn’t the most durable thing. Hopefully the next dimension would have metal he could get his hands on.

With someone there he also had the added benefit of feeling . . . sane. So many times he’d wondered if he was losing his mind. Having someone else there to talk to helped make Ford feel grounded.

-

“Morty, wake up.” Ford’s voice made Morty wake with a yawn, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. It was a nicer way to wake up than a gun in his face and the smell of stale alcohol. Actually, Ford, as far as Morty can tell, doesn’t tend to drink. Imagine that: a responsible adult. Well, as responsible as possible, Ford had told him some stories that showed he could be pretty irresponsible too, with how he stole from a race of human faced squirrels, or how he singlehandedly challenged the king of an alien race with six arms to an arm wrestling match . . . but those were the kind of crazy adventures that sounded fun to Morty. None of this ‘shove-these-seeds-up-your-ass-Morty’ or ‘oops-I-shot-you-again-Morty’ bullshit.

“What is it S-Sixer?” He had tentatively tried calling Ford that two days ago, and while the man had been surprised, he seemed to like it. And it made Morty feel more like there was some sort of bond between them instead of just being, well, a Morty.

“The ripple is appearing. It seems to be about a mile away. I never know how long it will last, so we need to get to it as fast as possible. I packed everything before waking you up. You’re fine with eating breakfast on the way right?” Looking past Ford, Morty could see that there were two bags (Ford and Morty had made them a few nights ago from the same comfortable bark they used for beds, it was pretty useful stuff.) fully packed. One for both of them. And one didn’t even seem light and useless like when Rick would give him the ‘easy tasks’ because Morty was bound to fuck them up.

“Yea, I can eat while we go.” Sitting up Morty stretched and then walked over, grabbing the food (no longer finding the citrus appearance strange) and then heading towards the bags, grabbing one. He waited for Ford to tell him no, he had picked the wrong one and that one had important things Morty, take the one with the shit in it Morty, but he didn’t. Instead he simply grabbed the other one and pulled out a compass-like device, studying it.

“It’s not fully appeared, so hopefully by the time we get there we can immediately pass through.” Ford frowned in thought, muttering a little to himself. “I wonder what world this one will send us to. The food I have should provide us with at least some sustenance, but I should go first in case it’s dangerous, though if we don’t pass through together I’m not sure if it will send us to the same place . . . ”

“Well, we um, we’ll find out when we try right?” Morty asked, giving a small smile.

That elicited a small chuckle from Ford. “Right you are. There’s no way to predict where we’ll end up. Let’s just do all we can to end up at the same place.” With that he headed to the cave entrance and looked around, consulting his compass thing and then heading down the mountain. Morty followed right behind him, looking around at everything. Though he wouldn’t be sad to leave this place behind, it was kinda a cool world.

Though the neatest part was finding someone to travel with. Who wasn’t an alcoholic asshole.

Morty looked at the compass thing Ford kept glancing at, but it had a strange language and a few glowing points on it so he couldn’t figure it out. Ford seemed to notice however and gave a small smile. “I can teach you how it works if you want. It measures the strength of the dimension, and picks up anomalies like a ripple, portal or rip—and it can tell the difference between them, since each are very distinct anomalies. For example, a rip is, for the most part, a permanent or at least a semi-permanent occurrence. I have been experimenting with ways to repair them, but I haven’t figured it out yet. Meanwhile, portals are unnatural occurrences, typically formed by some sort of sentient being with will and technology.”

“Like Rick’s portal gun, or the one you went through?”

“Exactly!” Ford smiled proudly down at Morty and nodded. “These are typically extremely temporary, since they depend on the one using them and technology to remain. They could be stabilized to remain open for a long period of time, but it would still depend on the one who’s running its will and technology, since a malfunction could cause problems.”

“Cool. So this lets you know it’s a ripple. Would you still go if it was a portal or a tear?”

Ford didn’t answer right away, seeming to give the question a lot of thought. “I might. It depends. If it was a portal I’d be more interested in what would come through it. A tear however . . . most can be used multiple times, so I’d chance going through. Though I would have to be careful, in case it was to the nightmare realm. Then again, if it was . . . any world connected to Bill’s won’t last long.” Ford went silent after that, and Morty knew he was probably thinking about his past with Bill. Bill was always a rough thing for Ford to talk about, most likely because he’d been tricked by him as bad as he was. Morty would feel pretty shitty if some monster had talked him into almost dooming the world. Or, at least, he had felt pretty shitty when he helped Rick doom some poor SOB.

A terrifying sound interrupted all thoughts. “It’s the bear!” Ford yelled and Morty’s eyes widened, looking towards the roar. Ford had mentioned the bear, the name of the predator he’d seen, but Morty had always kinda assumed it was . . . bear like? This didn’t look anything like a bear. It looked like death. Ford was taking off towards presumably the ripple. “This way Morty!” Morty was right behind him.

Until he tripped.

There was a familiar sinking feeling in his gut as he slammed on the ground. The roaring, terrifying creature was lumbering closer. Morty raised his arms to shield himself, but knew it wouldn’t do much good. It never did. Ford had to be almost at the ripple by now, and Morty wondered if the man would bother to remember him when he got to the next dimension. The beat was upon him and he squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a scream, waiting for blood, and pain.

He only got one of those however.

-

Ford’s jaw was clenched as he braced himself, blood liberally flowing from the wound on his arm as one of the beast’s jaws continued to work on the limb, trying to bite through the fabric. Thankfully though it seemed able to pierce the defensive fleece, it couldn’t easily cut through it with its fangs. “M-Morty, get up,” Ford was sliding back bit by bit as the bear pushed forward, despite how Ford tried to keep his position over the teen.

He didn’t dare take his eyes off the bear however, and could just hope that the teen wasn’t so scared he couldn’t move. “W-What do I do?!” the panicked voice behind him let him know Morty had moved, and so he shifted his weight, trying to turn the bear’s head so it would be forced to let go.

“Get back! The ripple should be a few hundred yards south of us, get, get to it if you can!” Ford bit the inside of his mouth, suppressing a cry of pain as the beast’s jaws only locked down harder. The inside of his mouth filled with blood and he knew if this kept up his armor would only do so much.

His free hand reached to his belt, grabbing the axe he kept there. The position wasn’t ideal, but he swung the axe down into the beast’s flesh as hard as he could. It made the creature recoil in pain and surprise, releasing Ford’s arm which hung uselessly at his side. That wasn’t Ford’s main concern however, as he shifted his position and then went after the bear before it could recover from the first blow. While that one had been a slash to the side, Ford just trying to hit it _anywhere_ , this one was a harsh blow to the creature’s face. Black liquid was bubbling up and Ford tried to avoid it as he brought the axe down again, getting in a deep cut before one of the creature’s many paws hit him aside. The bear staggered, seeming a little unsure of the direction, but it was on Ford in a moment, pinning him to the ground with three clawed paws (Ford noticed now each claw seemed to have two layers of claws, meaning each had eight toes. How fascinating! At least it would be if he wasn’t about to meet those claws _much_ closer), while a fourth and fifth were raised up.

And then there was another roar from the beast. Its claws dug in more and it then staggered back, falling over, sword sticking out of its neck. Ford glanced over and saw a panting and bloody Morty standing there, staring at Ford and the bear wide eyed.

Ford let out a weak laugh, gingerly pushing himself up to stand, being careful of his injured arm. “I suppose that material worked well enough for the sword blade,” he wished his voice wasn’t as shaky as it was as he hooked the axe on his belt again. “Thank you Morty. I was in a bit of a bind there.”

“You, you saved me first.” The way he said it made Ford glance at him. It was almost like Morty couldn’t believe it.

“I hope you didn’t expect me to leave you there,” Ford said with a small smile, reaching up to adjust his glasses, never minding they were currently smeared with blood. “Now. Why don’t you remove your sword, and we can go through that ripple to the next world.”

“Sounds good Sixer.”


End file.
